


The One Where Joe Kills A Spider And They Make Up Over Two Cups Of Hot Chocolate

by emeraldcitydowntowngirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hot Chocolate, Lots of tears, M/M, Mentions of Spiders, talking things out... kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9194315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl
Summary: (pretty much what the title says)





	

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year! lets start the year off w some joetrick!

_“Ugh,” Joe says, as he grabs a napkin off of the table. “I hate spiders.”_

_To paint the scene: Joe and Patrick are eating some takeout together on Patrick’s couch. It’s gotten to that point in their relationship that Patrick doesn’t care that the place is an absolute pigsty, so that’s exactly what the living room looks like. And there’s a huge spider in the corner of the room, just taunting them._

_“Wait, are you gonna kill it?!” Patrick exclaims, once he sees Joe advance towards it. He reaches up and he tugs on Joe’s shirt to pull him back down onto the couch. “Don’t… don’t kill it! It has a family, Joe!”_

_Joe flops back onto the couch, and blinks at Patrick, before he turns his head to look back at the spider. It’s fucking enormous, but Patrick doesn’t even seem phased by it._

_“I don’t care! It’s… it’s a spider! You like spiders?” Joe asks, in disbelief, and Patrick shrugs a little. He takes the napkin from Joe’s hands, and he throws it back onto the coffee table._

_“I’m not… I’m not fond of them, but I don’t want to see them dead either, babe. Hold on, I’ll get a paper cup and a book, and we’ll let him back out, okay?” Patrick asks, and Joe just continues to stare at him in disbelief._

_Patrick’s the biggest sweetheart in the world._

_Joe watches as Patrick slowly traps the spider under Joe’s book, by the way, and the paper cup. He winces slightly when Patrick teasingly brings the spider closer to him, says “Look, Joe, he just wants to go back home!”, and then opens the window on the other side of the room. He lets the spider go, and then Patrick jumps back onto the couch, and into Joe’s arms. He buries his head in the crook of Joe's neck and he snuggles up close to him._

_“Spiders are way more afraid of you than you are of them, Joseph. I totally don’t condone the killing of spiders.”_

* * *

“ _Hi, um, this is… um… there’s a really big spider in my apartment, and I’m just… sorry, you’re the closest person to my place, and… can you come kill it for me? Sorry, I’m just—“_

It’s 6 months later, and Joe and Patrick are broken up now.

And with the way that they broke up, Joe’s surprised to even hear Patrick’s voice, considering the last thing Patrick ever said to him was to never fucking talk to him again. But, god, Patrick’s voice sounds like velvet, and chocolate, and Joe misses it so much. Joe misses _Patrick_ so much. Just hearing Patrick’s voice makes Joe think back to that night, but then he quickly shakes it out.

“You want me to… kill a spider for you?” Joe asks, tentatively. He’s a little more than confused, since he thought that Patrick liked putting spiders back outside when he found them around the apartment, but then Patrick’s breath hitches before he says, slowly, like he’s trying to monitor every word he says, “Well, um, er it’s a really big spider. You don’t have to, um… come, but,” and then Joe starts putting his shoes on.

Maybe this is just Patrick’s way of saying he wants to patch things up- Joe knows Patrick well enough to know that he would never swallow his pride and admit that he would want to fix things outright. So, he replies with “Yeah, no, of course. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Bye.”

He’s seen Patrick a lot since they broke up, y’know, living in the same apartment complex, and all. But he’s gonna actually _see_ Patrick now, and he looks like _shit_. He hasn’t shaven and his clothes are covered in dog hair, but he has no time to fix himself. So, he swishes some Listerine around in his mouth as he pulls on a pair of pants, and spits it out into the kitchen sink as he slips his sneakers on, and he shuts the door behind him.

Just pressing the ‘5’ button in the elevator, the floor that Patrick lives on, makes his heart flutter. _God_ , Joe thinks, _this is fucking pathetic. It’s been 3 months since we broke up, get a fucking grip._

But he can’t. When the elevator doors open, and he steps out, he’s smack in front of Patrick’s apartment, and he feels dizzy. He remembers being so thankful for the apartment being right in front of the elevators, because they wouldn’t have to run into walls while making out, trying to get to the door, and he remembers how he just slipped into the open elevator doors the night they broke up, and he remembers staring dead into Patrick’s tear filled eyes as the elevator doors closed, and the way that-- he pinches his arm a little, just to stop his train of thought from going further.

He knocks on the door, and less than a second later, Patrick’s there. “Um, hi.” He says, and he steps over to the side, to let Joe in.

They both stare at each other when Joe walks in. It’s not that Joe thought that Patrick would magically grow 5 inches, but he forgot the way that Patrick had to look up slightly to look into his eyes, he forgot the scar on Patrick’s eyebrow, he forgot the way that Patrick’s eyes looked in the lighting of his apartment. The entire place smells like _Patrick_ , and Joe wants to bathe in it.

“Hey.” Joe says, and he forces himself to crack a smile. “So… the spider?”

Patrick clears his throat, and he points to a _huge_ fucking spider on the corner of the living room ceiling. Joe almost doesn’t wanna go near it. “I’m too afraid to even go near it, and I mean… I remember, you, um, you don’t really mind killing them, right?” Patrick asks, airily, and Joe shakes his head. “No… do you have a napkin, or 2? Or, like, 10?”

Patrick nods, and he runs into the kitchen to grab some. And Joe can’t help himself, so he turns his head a little, and _yeah_ , there’s still a dent in the wall from when Patrick threw that remote controller at him, but otherwise the place looks the same as how he remembers it.

Well, remembers it before Joe’s stuff occupied it. Like, Joe’s calc textbooks aren’t on the surface of the coffee table, his colored pencils aren’t scattered by the desk by the dining room, his blanket isn’t draped over the couch. It’s kind of unsettling. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but it’s understandable. Joe remembers coming home to find a box of his stuff in front of the door. It’s just… weird. He feels so unwelcome, like being in a place you used to call home, and now you don’t.

Patrick taps his shoulder, and hands him a handful of napkins with a grimace. “You can, um, just throw it in this.” He’s referring to a box of take-out, and fuck, Joe remembers Patrick’s order, and just everything reminds him of Patrick. He thought he was _over_ it. But standing here in front of him, he realizes just how not over he is.

This sucks.

He takes a handful of the napkins, and he bunches them up, so that he has a good grip on them when he goes to kill the spider. And Patrick watches him. He can feel blue eyes on him, and it feels like all of the heat radiating off of Patrick, who’s clad in sweats, hits him in waves. All he can feel is Patrick. This probably isn’t healthy. Joe should have never answered his phone.

He walks over to the spider, and… well, kills it. There’s not really much to it. Both Joe and Patrick wince at the same time, and Joe quickly drops the squished up spider in one of the boxes, before handing it to Patrick. Patrick takes it from his hands, runs it into the kitchen, throws it presumably into the garbage, and he comes back looking thoroughly exhausted even though he didn’t even do anything.

“Thanks.” Patrick says, shakily, and Joe shrugs, begging to some higher being that he looks nonchalant. “No prob.”

They both stare at each other for a moment, and then Joe clears his throat awkwardly.  “So, I’m just gonna—“

“No,” Patrick says, reaching out to tug on Joe’s shirt. His eyes are wide, and Joe can’t really see well past Patrick’s glasses, but he’s almost certain that his eyes are watery. “Don’t go. Please. I just- I want to talk.”

_Oh._

Joe nods numbly, and Patrick’s fingers uncurl from his shirt. He can just barely feel the pressure from Patrick’s fingertips on his skin and he wants to lean into it. “I made some hot chocolate. If you want.” Patrick says, and Joe nods again. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He follows Patrick into the kitchen, and he runs his hands over the granite counter. Patrick’s magnetic fridge is still the same, and even though he doesn't want to look, he still ends up looking.

And of course the picture of them together isn't there. There’s empty spot on the fridge, minus the little red magnet that pinned the picture up there in the first place, where it used to be. Joe wonders where that picture is now.

“I’d make it with milk, but it sorta went sour.” Patrick says, before Joe and Patrick flinch at the same time.

Milk.

Joe can tell from Patrick’s facial expression that he hadn’t meant to say that, so Joe stops himself from walking out of the door and his mouth clamps shut so that he doesn’t say anything. They stand in silence for a second, and then Patrick asks, a little more uneasy, “I can make it with water, though?”

“Yeah, water’s good.” He almost doesn't feel welcome to sit at the counter, even though a year ago he probably was studying for a final in those same seats. But then Patrick motions to them with his head, and Joe takes a seat.

Joe fiddles with his fingers as Patrick takes out a box of Swiss Miss and takes out two packets. The hot water in a kettle whistles, and he hears a package of marshmallows get thrown haphazardly onto the counter.

“I’m really sorry.” He hears Patrick’s soft voice call out, suddenly.

Joe looks up, and Patrick isn't facing him. He’s pouring out hot water into mugs, but Joe’s almost certain it doesn't take that long to pour water. “I was stupid. I didn't want to listen to anything you said because I have too much pride to admit I’m wrong.”

It sounds super scripted. Super scripted, and nothing like Patrick. Joe doesn’t have time to bite his tongue, so he snaps. “So, like, did you just recite that word from word from something Pete texted you to say?”

Patrick whips back around, with the two mugs in his hands, and Joe almost wants to move away, in case Patrick snaps and throws the entire thing on him. “Fuck you. Fuck you, Joe. I didn’t fucking-”

This sounds more like Patrick. Joe’s fists clench as Patrick continues to curse at him, and he says through gritted teeth, “So Pete set you up to do this, right? What, did he fucking bring a spider up here for you just so that you could play damsel in distress? What do you want from me?!”

The two glasses clink on the countertop, and some of their drink splashes out from the top. Patrick’s hands go up to his head, and he pulls on his hair, in frustration,  and he screams. “I want to fucking make up! I’m sorry that I need help with that because we all know how fucking incompetent I am, right?  Was that the word you used?”

It’s a direct hit. Joe’s fingernails dig into his palms, and he yells back, “You couldn’t buy milk?! You couldn’t get off the couch and buy milk?! That sounds pretty incompetent to me, I didn’t call you incompetent for any other reason so don’t accuse me of anything. I’m getting out of here.”

It feels like a rerun of the night that everything went wrong. Joe feels like an idiot- why did he even come here? He shoves his hands in his pockets, and he starts stomping over to the front door.

“Wait!” Patrick cries out, “No! Just- fuck- can we start over? I didn’t mean to do that, and your hot chocolate is gonna go to waste, and I don’t want this to end badly, I don’t want us to end badly.” He sounds desperate, and he looks it too. He looks like he genuinely feels bad. And suddenly, just like that, Joe’s sitting back in his seat, trying to regulate his breathing and keep his heart from pounding from all of that pent up anger.

Patrick pushes Joe’s drink closer to him, and he takes a deep breath, before he blurts, “I didn’t mean to say any of the stuff I said, and I know it was wrong. And this isn’t our friends trying to get us back together, or on speaking terms, or anything, I just needed help with how to say it, and then Pete suggested… okay, I’ll just... I'll just start by saying that I really regret that night.  I blew everything you said out of proportion, and... we just kept fighting and arguing, and we had finals, and I was tired and I just forgot to buy the milk! I just forgot, I didn’t do it because I didn’t like you anymore and I wanted to piss you off, and I didn’t do it because I don’t care about you, I just forgot, you know?”

He pauses for a moment to drop some marshmallows in his drink, and to make sure that Joe’s still listening. Which he is.

“And I don’t want you to think that I thought I deserved better than you. Because you treated me really good. But I was so angry and I wanted to say something to make you feel as bad you made me feel. You said I was…” He takes a deep breath, and he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. But I wanted you to feel bad, and you did, and then I felt guilty, but we just kept- well, you know, and then I threw the remote at you! I threw the remote at you, at _you_ , and I didn’t even know who I was because I felt crazy, and I didn’t like that feeling, and it was my fault but I wanted to blame everything on you, and… yeah. But I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it… and I really regret it. And it took me so long to say something, finally, but… I never… like, I haven’t been with anyone, and I didn’t want to be until we actually talked. Do you get what I mean?”

He finally takes a breath, and he awkwardly grabs his mug and takes a sip. So Joe guesses it’s his turn- the thing is, he has a lot to say. Everything he’s told Pete over the past 6 months, all of the nights he's been drunk off his ass and ranting to his dog, everything. Joe has everything to say. But when he opens his mouth, tears begin to spring at his eyes, and this wet, ugly sounding sob comes out of his throat instead.

And Joe isn't a crier. Patrick steps back a little cautiously as Joe begins to cry, like he's never seen Joe cry before. Which he probably hasn't, Joe can't really think, everything in his head is _Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrick_ and _I need a tissue_ and _You look like an idiot stop fucking crying_.

"Sorry," Joe says, burying his head in his hands, and he sniffles so that, like, snot doesn't come pouring out of his nose. He says quickly, his words slurring together, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry, sor-", but then Patrick stops him by walking over and pulling Joe's head to his chest. He wraps his arms around his body, loosely, and Joe immediately turns his head into Patrick's body, and he holds Patrick tighter. "Sorry, I-I-I have _things_ to say, and we're not, w-we're not getting anywhere with me-"

"Shhhh," Patrick coos, and he begins to thread his fingers in Joe's hair, the way that Joe loves it. Joe's hair is super curly, he mostly hates when people tamper with it because everything gets knotty. But Patrick just massages little circles in as Joe sniffles, and sniffles, and sniffles.

"You don't say anything, I know." Patrick says, and he sounds a little choked up too. "I know you didn't mean it. I know that... I mean, we were just being stupid. Right?"

Joe nods, and he pulls away from Patrick's grasp to grab one of the napkins on the counter. He blows his nose, and he wipes some of the wetness off of his cheek, but he doesn't look at Patrick, too ashamed, or something, he's not really sure, Joe doesn't cry. "Yeah, we were stupid. But I was stupider. And I don't think that stupider is a word."

Patrick sits back down, and he shifts his chair so that he's facing Joe. He holds his hands in his, Joe's hands are shaking, but so are Patrick's. "I think it's a word, it just sounds weird. And-- hey, look at me." He says softly.

Joe shakes his head miserably. "I can't, I just-" and then a fresh set of tears spring to his eyes, so he pulls his hands away from Patrick's to wipe them away. "I've just never cried in front of anyone before."

"Well, I guess I'm your first. Again." Patrick says, making a pretty bad joke, but Joe laughs away, bubbly and he looks up to Patrick to say, softly so he knows he's joking, "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot...?" Patrick asks, tentatively, and he reaches a hand out to wipe away at something on Joe's face, his fingers feel like electric against Joe's skin. "Sorry, that was kinda-"

"Kiss me." Joe blurts out, his wide eyes peering up into Patrick's, and he pulls Patrick a little closer via the hand on his face, and Patrick definitely doesn't refuse. His hand cups Joe's jaw, and he leans forward, and they kiss, all salty tears and Chinese food, and lush lips. It's chaste, Joe's not sure he should be sticking his tongue in Patrick's mouth so soon, but it still feels just as magical and sweet and sugar and everything nice. 

"Stay over." Patrick says, through an exhale, after he pulls away. "We can half-watch a movie and drink our hot chocolate and talk about our feelings even though that's, like, the last thing I want to do, and just. Stay with me. I miss your voice, I miss you."

And, well, Joe obliges. 

**Author's Note:**

> i know that like mentioning milk in this fandom pretty much equals disaster... but im putting blind faith in like the 0.6 people who read joetrick (why dont ppl read more joetrick!!?!!?) not to comment something stupid abt the milk fic so like... dont prove me wrong??? 
> 
> anyways- i had this in my drafts for a WHILE. but i wanted to finish it up and post it cause like. new year! getting rid of all of old stuff and starting fresh! yes! 2017! i hope u guys liked it even though the ending is kinda rushed and ugly


End file.
